Who?
by silverjigsaw
Summary: The war is over, and silly things must be worried over...like who in the world is Eowyn marrying, exactly?
1. In Which Eomer tells Eowyn

Yay! I've been cut off from the site I love (this one) for four whole days. I've been busy, though; very busy. Here's a new romantic from the likes of me. I don't own Lord of the Rings, the Tolkein estate and Peter Jacksonand New Line Cinemas do.

Enjoy!

-_The Author_

* * *

He was surprised by the hearty greeting he got from her. She must have missed him a lot. She threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek, and cried that he was getting too proud, the new King, and that he wouldn't even give his sister a hug in return. He eagerly gave her a hug; she hadn't asked for one since their mother had died. He looked at Eowyn's smiling face, her cheeks rather rosy and her blue eyes bright and merry, and thought Amrothos would be very pleased with Eowyn as his wife.

"Oh, Eomer!" said she. "I have so much news to give you! But first you must sit and tell me about your journey."

But he had such news concerning her that he began with that. "I am glad to see you so happy," he said.

"Indeed!" she said. "I've never been happier, and I wish I could share it with you! But first you must tell me about your journey – etiquette says so." She made a motion towards a side doorway. A woman came out bearing a tea tray.

"I have good news for you," he said. "Your time in Gondor has not been wasted."

"I have been healing," she said. She and the tea lady smiled at each other, and the woman continued setting out the tea things.

"Yes, that," he waved a hand a bit, as if it didn't matter. She smirked. He continued, "But you haven't gone unnoticed."

"I know!" she giggled, clasping her hands together.

"You…do?"

"Yes!" she giggled. It suddenly occurred to Eomer that he had never heard his sister giggle before, and now she giggled twice. There was something strange afoot.

"So," he said, "I have arranged a marriage for you."

"Oh, really?" Eowyn grinned and arranged the napkin in her lap. "And with whom, may I asked?"

"Amrothos," said Eomer. "Son of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth."

Eowyn stared at him in astonishment. The tea lady set down the teapot and gaped at him.

"_Who?_" Eowyn asked.

"Amrothos." When Eowyn still looked astonished, he repeated, "Son of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth."

She and the tea lady looked at each other. The tea lady shrugged.

"Eomer," said Eowyn, "I have some news myself."

Someone knocked on the door, interrupting. The tea lady answered. It was a messenger, bearing a message for Lady Eowyn. The tea lady took it and curtsied, and closed the door. She held the message out for Eowyn.

"Probably from your lover," said Eomer with a smile.

"Probably," she said faintly. The rosiness in her cheeks seemed to have disappeared. She looked at the writing on the front, frowned at it, and broke the seal.

"He is a good man," said Eomer.

"How do you know?"

"Well," said Eomer. "He is giving us aid."

"How so?" Eowyn looked up from the letter.

"Money," Eomer admitted. "He's giving us money in exchange for marrying you. Money we need to rebuild our country after the reign of Wormtongue. Money we can't get anywhere else because this country is in even worse shape than ours." He looked at the handsome furnishings and embroidered _everything_ and thought to himself that that was hard to imagine. They were silent as Eowyn read the letter. It was a short one, but she read it with wide eyes, and smiled in some places. She folded it when she was done and stuck it in her pocket.

"I have an appointment," she said shortly.

"That's sudden," said Eomer. "With who, may I ask?"

Eowyn took the letter out of her pocket again, and opened her mouth. "Well," she said, "This may come as a surprise to you, dear brother, but-"

There was another knock on the door. The tea lady again answered it. There were some issues among the men in one of the lower levels; could Eomer King please come and help? Eomer kissed his sister's hand in farewell and left.

Eowyn stared as he shut the door smartly behind him. "But I've gone and arranged a marriage with Lord Faramir," she said to herself.


	2. In Which Eomer tells Faramir

Yay! New (short) chapter. I enjoy it. I hope you do, too. Even if I don't own any of the characters, settings, etc.

-_The Author

* * *

_

It was amazing how small a time it took for a set of men to get in trouble with a brothel. Eomer sighed to himself at the idiocy of it all, and accepted Beregond's invitation for lunch. There was a score of men, sitting out on his verandah. Beregond disappeared inside for reasons somehow involving his wife chirping at him. He smiled to himself, and sat down with the only other man he was acquainted with, Amrothos of Dol Amroth. He was sitting with another man, who he introduced as his cousin, Lord Faramir.

"Formerly of the House of the Stewards," said Amrothos. "But we won't be needing those anymore, hey? Not with the King here, and that elf-bride. But never mind that. Before you arrived, Eomer, I was trying to lure my mysterious cousin's secret from him."

"A secret appreciates with age," said Faramir, innocently sipping from his cup.

"_I_ think," said Amrothos, "That Faramir is relieved to not have to take the Throne of Gondor, and is glad to hide in the Gardens of Old and read his book until he dies a bachelor at a hundred and two."

Faramir grinned widely. "The bachelor's life is not for me," he said.

"Oh, really?" Amrothos patted his shoulder, and leaned in confidentially, although Eomer could still hear his every word. "Then why haven't I heard about you courting any ladies, hm?"

Faramir again took another sip from his cup of innocence, and didn't respond.

"Ah-ha," said Amrothos. "We are indeed getting somewhere. Faramir has a girl, hiding somewhere."

"In the bushes there?" Eomer suggested.

The other two men laughed.

"Well," said Amrothos, "I wish you all the luck in finding your wife; I've already found mine."

"Oh, really?" Faramir grinned. "And with whom, may I ask?"

"Eowyn," said Eomer. "My sister, Lady of Rohan."

Faramir stared at him in astonishment.

"_Who?_" Faramir asked.

"Eowyn." Why did he have the strangest sense of déjà vu? "My sister, Lady of Rohan."

Faramir looked at his cup. He took another drink from it.

"You've met her, probably," said Amrothos. "She was in the Houses of Healing the same time as you. Blonde, pale, the saddest eyes you ever saw."

Faramir nodded. He set his cup down, and slid it back and forth between his hands.

"Are you alright?" Eomer asked.

Faramir looked at him. "Yes," he said. "I'm sorry. How could -- _did_ this match happen?"

"Amrothos asked me," said Eomer. "We hammered out the terms, I said yes, and then I left to go tell Eowyn."

"She knows?"

"Yes," said Eomer. "She was quite surprised, but she'll get over it. She always knew she was meant for a Gondorian Lord. She can't stay in the Golden Halls forever."

"I have an appointment," Faramir said shortly. He stood up.

"That's sudden," said Amrothos.

"With who, may I ask?"

Faramir swallowed the last from his drink. "Well," he said.

With a sudden shout, out came Beregond and his wife, and a few servants, with food for all. Faramir disappeared in the confusion, muttering his apologies to Beregond, who understood, and then left for his appointment with Eowyn.


	3. In Which Eowyn and Faramir Talk Ship

Wowzers - a lot of reviews already. Hmm. This might actually be quality.

Well insert a cleverly-written disclaimer here Enjoy!

-_The Author

* * *

_

She was already there when he arrived. She threw her arms around him and buried her face into her shoulder. She didn't cry, but she had all the appearance of wanting to. He laid his arms across her, and kissed her hair.

"Oh, Faramir!" said she. "I have such news to give you!"

"Is it about you marrying my cousin Amrothos?"

She lifted her head up, to look at him, surprised. "Who?"

"Amrothos. Son of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth."

"Yes," she said. "Him."

"Your brother just told me."

She sighed and sat down on the grass. "He just told _me_." She looked out at the rosebushes that lined the little stone path, the white-stone bench surrounded mostly by yellow flowers, and the grass that somehow refused to turn green. She plucked a leaf of grass and blew on it. Wasn't there some way to make it sing?

Faramir sat down next to her. "Well," he said, "I'm sure we can work this out somehow. A simple mistake was made. I don't think either engagement has been formally announced."

"Faramir," said she, "He's giving us _money_."

"That is strange," said Faramir. "Doesn't the _bride's_ family give the groom money?"

"I don't know," Eowyn sighed. "I never thought about marriage before Aragorn came along, and I never took it seriously until I met you."

"I'm sure Lothiriel told me so," said Faramir.

"Who's Lothiriel?"

"Another cousin of mine. I have many."

"Indeed."

"She's sweet," he said. "One of my favorite cousins."

"Oh," said Eowyn. "Well, why doesn't _she_ marry him?"

"Because she's his sister."

Eowyn blinked at this. "I've never even _met_ him!" Eowyn burst out. "And he didn't even _ask_ me. Just said, 'you're marrying…whoever he is!'"

"Amrothos."

"Him."

"Did you tell him you didn't want to marry him?"

"No. I never had a chance."

"Ask," Faramir stretched out on the grass. Eowyn turned and looked at his rather lithe form, stretched out in all its glory, and had a sudden urge to kiss him. He smiled at her, making the prospect all the more tempting.

"Fine," she said. "I will."

"You do that."

"Okay then."

"Good."

"Alright."

"It's settled."

She kissed him.

He had no response to that.


	4. The NeverBefore Mentioned Feast

And instantly, chapter four! don't own anything!

-_The Author

* * *

_

Eowyn stared at the choices of dress Ana had set out for her. The little maid frowned at Eowyn's frown, and said, "I thought you liked these dresses. And Faramir likes these dresses."

"Yes," said Eowyn, "But I'm not going with Faramir. I'm going with my brother."

"Oh." Ana stared in horror at the array of dresses she had chosen, and said, "Then something else, then."

"_Definitely._" Eowyn paused, and said, "Maybe the white one."

Ana took the dress out with a flourish – it whipped like a flag, and she said, "Bridal!"

"Yes!" said Eowyn. "But to who – who knows?"

"Faramir."

"He is the easy choice."

"_Very_ easy," said Ana dreamily.

Eowyn gave the girl a little glare and said, "_My_ choice."

Ana smiled prettily. The two of them set to work, to make Eowyn look "fabulous!" for the feast. Gondorian maids were so much more pleasant that Rohirric maids, Eowyn thought. And she remembered Brenna, who had gossiped with one of the cooks, who had heard it second-hand from the grocer that one of Faramir's pages thought Ana very pretty, indeed. She wondered if she ought to tell this rumor to Ana. Then she wondered if the sources were reliable.

"You're thoughtful," said Ana.

"Yes," said Eowyn. Then she cried, "Ow!"

"Sorry," said Ana, releasing the offended strand of hair. "But you know, I heard from a girl whose sister is seeing a stable boy that your brother can be very understanding."

"Ana," said Eowyn, "_What_ does a stable boy have to do with anything?"

"I on't oh."

"What?"

Ana popped the pin out of her mouth and said, "I don't know." Then she stuck the pin in Eowyn's hair, and said, "What do you think?"

"I don't know. I can't see it."

Smiling, Ana presented a mirror. Eowyn nodded her approval at the high braids on her head, but noted that the choice of ribbon was blue.

"But of course," Ana said mysteriously, and drew out the midnight-blue cloak that Faramir had given her only weeks before. There came a knock on the door. Brenna ran to answer it, as Ana insisted on pinning Eowyn's cloak herself (though she had to stand on tiptoe to do so). Eowyn turned to face her brother, and resolved herself to mention it _first thing_ that she couldn't marry…whoever, as she had a prior engagement.

Literally.

She took a deep breath.

"Eomer King."

Eomer stepped into the room, his boots banging on the floor. He was followed, promptly, by a smirking Lord with black hair and grey eyes, and the sharpest clothes Eowyn had ever _seen_. Eowyn, Ana, and Brenna all exchanged glances at each other; who was this foppish fool?

"This is Amrothos."

"Who?"

"…Son of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth."

Amrothos smirked. His hair was all mussed, as if sexily.

Eowyn, Ana, and Brenna looked at each other again. Finally, it occurred to Eowyn that she ought to bow. Etiquette and all.

_Maybe not first thing_.


	5. In Which Eowyn and that Guy Talk

Sorry for the delay - finals week and writer's block. No other excuse. Not mine, and I hope you enjoy! I really do...

-_The Author

* * *

_

"If I may say so, you look very lovely this evening."

"You may say so."

"You look very lovely this evening."

"Thank you."

"Your maid did an excellent job."

"So I would look hideous otherwise?"

He frowned a bit at this. _Push him away, push him away_. Perhaps if he thought her shrewish he would drop the whole suit and this conversation wouldn't be entirely wasted. Eomer simply twiddled his thumbs as he went.

"I mean," said the man, "To make you look loveli-_er_ than before."

A question suddenly occurred to Eowyn. "When have you ever seen me before?" she asked. "I've asked around; as far as I know, you were but lightly injured in the Battle of Pelennor Fields, and you rode with your father to the Black Gates. I've been only to the Fields and Houses of Healing until now."

"Oh, you've asked about me?"

"And aren't you a bit young?"

"I'm a year older than you."

"That's still young, especially for one of the Numenorean race," said Eowyn.

"Are you a student of lore, Lady?" He smiled. It bent his face horribly. He was _enjoying her company_. Eowyn changed strategies and didn't respond. Maybe now he would be bored by her. "I am," he said. "Although not as great as my cousin Faramir. _Wizard's pupil_ they call him. You're a woman," he turned to her.

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Well, I've asked my sister Lothiriel – you'll like her, she's a very pleasant girl – I've asked her to check all the rumor-holes and see who my cousin Faramir is courting."

"Oh?" Eowyn couldn't say anymore.

"Yes," he said, "And women are good at such things."

"All women?"

"Yes," he said. "It is well-known that all women are hopeless gossipers; you can't say a word in front of them without them spreading it around. I say this to you, even though it's rude, because I feel I can trust you. We are going to be married, after all."

Eowyn bit her tongue to keep from speaking, and drove her fist into her hand.

"What was that noise?" Eomer suddenly asked.

"Nothing," said Eowyn brightly. "Nothing at all."


	6. In Which There Are Complications

W00t! I seem to be finding my groove in this story again. Hopefully. Might not be the same groove, but hopefully it's a good groove nonetheless. Well. Cleverly-written disclaimer aside, I hope you enjoy!

_-The Author

* * *

_

Eomer turned left onto the sixth level of the White City. He looked around him, and saw how high up he was, and was maybe a little more frightened that he would have liked to admit. He was a man of Rohan; he rode horses across plains. Heights more than a little unnerved him. So it wasn't surprising at all that when someone cried out"Eomer!" he jumped about a foot in the air.

Aragorn King laughed as he approached him.

"Aragorn," said Eomer, bowing his head a little at his friend. "If that is what I may call you; how many names do you have now?"

"I have no idea."

Eomer laughed. "I'm surprised to see you out and about, and alone. Where's your retinue of armed guards?"

Aragorn grinned. "I climbed out a window to escape. I'm going to the Houses of Healing. I could send a page for the information I need, but it's such a lovely day." He smiled out at the shady white stone. Eomer shivered and tried to hide it.

"That's fortunate," said Eomer. "For that is where I'm going, to visit my sister."

"Oh, yes," said Aragorn with a smile. As they turned to walk together, he asked, "How is she?"

"Very well," said Eomer. "When I saw her yesterday morning, she laughed and hugged me. She seems to have odd fits, though. Very soon afterwards she seemed to take ill, or at least became fatigued. I can understand, then, why she didn't want to join me at Cormallen."

Aragorn chuckled to himself.

"She seemed fine, later," said Eomer. "I chaperoned her to last night's feast."

"And the wedding plans?"

Now Eomer laughed. "Nothing escapes you, does it?"

"So I've heard," said Aragorn. "Congratulations; he is a great lord."

Eomer gave his thanks, and said, "It seems to be going well. They got along splendidly last night and today I'm dropping in on them while his sister visits with Eowyn."

"…His sister? I wasn't aware of a sister."

"Yes," said Eomer. "A little sister. A pretty little thing, from what I've heard."

"Oh," said Aragorn. "Well, he's never mentioned her to me. But tell me, have they set the date?"

"Not yet," said Eomer. "They only met last night."

"They…what? Are we…? Who are you talking about?"

"Amrothos," said Eomer. "Son of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth."

"_Who?_"

"Amrothos," there again was the sense of déjà vu, "Son of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth."

"Um," said Aragorn. "Well, I don't suppose I am the right person to tell you this, dear friend, but-"

Then a pageboy ran straight into him. Aragorn didn't finish his sentence, but helped the boy up and asked him if he was alright. "Do you need to go to the Houses of Healing?"

"I'm already headed there," said the boy. He looked up and saw who he was speaking too. He immediately bowed. "My King, sir," he hastily added.

"We're headed that way ourselves," said Aragorn. "Who is the message for?"

"Lady Eowyn," said the pageboy. "It's a letter from Lord-"

"We'll take that," Aragorn snatched the letter from the boy's hands. He glanced at the seal and didn't look surprised at it. In fact, he actually nodded at it. "Thank you," he said. "This is her brother, here, he'll take it to her."

"Her brother!" cried the pageboy. "That's the last thing Lord-"

Aragorn stuck a coin in the pageboy's hand. "There you go. You may leave now."

"But he said-"

Aragorn bent and whispered in the boy's ear. His eyes widened in understanding. He nodded, bowed, and rushed off.

"What did you say to him?" Eomer asked.

"I told him a secret appreciates with age," said Aragorn. "A friend of mine told me that once. I thought it very clever." He handed the letter to Eomer and said, "Shall we finish his errand?"

They did. Eomer looked at the seal. That was no swan on the stamp. This wasn't from the house of Dol Amroth. There was another Lord, besides Amrothos, corresponding with Eowyn.


	7. In Which Someone Finds Out

Same night. Wow, I'm getting better at this. Although I am more tired than before, so maybe this won't be so good. Anyway. 

If anyone wants to know what my image of Faramir is, this girl is absolutely amazing: anke.edoras-art.de/ankehome.html. Hopefully that html will stay there. Copy and paste it, and put the http-colon-slash-slash in front, _and not the www._ That's exactly what I picture Faramir to look like. It's amazing. And he's shirtless in the first one, too. But that's just the fangirl in me...

Anyway, do I really need a disclaimer at this point? Enjoy!

-_The Author_

* * *

"Eowyn," said Lothiriel, "For if you may, I'll call you that; we're to be sisters, are we not? And good friends, I think." Eowyn nodded, her mouth too full of crumbcake to answer that fully. Lothiriel continued. "Has my brother asked you about our cousin Faramir yet?"

Eowyn spit out her crumbcake and coughed a little. Lothiriel jumped back in her seat. She checked her dress to see if any crumbs had fallen on her, and then asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," said Eowyn. "I think I just bit off more than I could chew." She swallowed some tea, as if to make a point, took a moment to think if he had indeed ever asked about Faramir, and said, "Yes, he asked me about Faramir. I thought it an odd request, didn't you?"

"In a way. Ammy and Faramir have always taken interests in each others affairs." Lothiriel smiled whimsically. She had just the face for whimsy. She said, "My brother worshipped him as a boy. He followed him everywhere, and Faramir told him stories, great stories that he learned from Mithrandir. For he is a Wizard's pupil, you know." Eowyn nodded. She had heard a great many things about Mithrandir, from Faramir and her Uncle. Lothiriel continued. "I followed Ammy everywhere, so I heard those stories, too. Very romantic stories. Well, anyway, he asked me if I'd heard anything about Cousin Faramir being in love. What a thing!"

"Yes," said Eowyn. "What a thing."

"I'm all for it," said Lothiriel. "I'm surprised it hasn't happened already. He is _very_ handsome. And tall. But have _you_ heard anything about his being in love?"

She very nearly answered, _recently?_ There had to be some clever, neutral response to that.

"I thought immediately to ask you," said Lothiriel, "because you and he both were in the Houses of Healing at the End of the War, so I think you might have known each other."

"Yes," said Eowyn, "Yes, we have met."

"And do you know anything?"

"About Faramir, you mean?"

Lothiriel laughed a little. "Yes, and about his being in love."

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Eowyn stood in her seat, but Brenna was already nearly there. She threw open the door and said, perhaps too loud, "My Lord Eomer!"

Eowyn breathed a sigh of relief.

Eomer entered the room, his boots banging against the wood. Eowyn and Lothiriel stood and curtseyed. He bowed in return. Eowyn introduced the two. They curtseyed and bowed again, and Lothiriel returned to her dessert. Eomer looked for only a moment more at the little princess, and then smiled at his sister. "On my way here, sister, we were run over by a pageboy."

He held out a letter. Eowyn took it. She saw immediately from the seal, and the writing on the front, that the letter was from Faramir. She wondered if Eomer wondered at this. She tried to open the letter casually.

_My dear,_ (it said)

(And here was some silly romantic fluff that we will spare you from)

_It has suddenly occurred to me, ere these thoughts came to mind, that perhaps in your reasonings with your brother you ought to avoid the mention of me. It might seem impure on a woman's part to reveal a love affair to her brother. You are, of course, at full leisure to discuss such impurities with me. I would welcome such discussion, in fact; especially if you were wearing your blue gown. Perhaps you know the one I am speaking of?_

(here he continued with more romantic talk that we will, again, spare you from)

_In hope,_

(and here he signed with his full name and titles, which, again, but for the sake of room this time, we will spare you from)

She tried to read the letter casually as well, but there were so many parts that made her giggle and blush that it was difficult _not_ to. It was obvious to Lothiriel that Eowyn was reading a love letter. To Eomer, whoever the letter-writer was had a great amount of wit about him(?), to make his sister laugh so.

At last Eowyn folded the paper and smiled at them both.

"Well," she said, "Has my brother the King of Rohan become a pageboy for Gondor, or has he another reason for visiting?"

Eomer drew up a chair to the table, which gave him an excuse to smile at Lothiriel. She returned the smile, and took a sip of tea. It had become lukewarm. She gestured at Brenna, who left for a new pot of hot water. Eowyn in this time sat down, and Eomer spoke.

"In a week's time we will leave for Rohan," said Eomer. Eowyn started. She had forgotten entirely about returning to Rohan. She had forgotten entirely that her Uncle needing to be buried. A wave of guilt and loss fell upon her, which was understandable. "And then, I think you ought to come back here," he continued, not noticing her sudden grief. "You seem to be happier here than ever you did in Rohan. You'll marry Amrothos and settle near the sea, which I hear greatly resembles the grasses in the wind, so you won't miss home too much." He smiled at her.

Now was her chance.

Except Lothiriel was sitting there, smiling at them both, her grey eyes, which were big and bright like Faramir's, looked from sister to brother and back again. Her face, however, more resembled her brother's, only softer, more womanly. There was the round face, and the smiling lips, and the hair, messed up, as if sexily. Faramir's face was lordly and proud, and could be stern and gentle at once. And his hair was always in place.

"I would like to discuss this with you later," said Eowyn.

Eomer looked surprised, but nodded.


	8. In Which Eowyn and Eomer Talk

Sorry for not updating for a few days. I have no excuses. I'll try get it all out before Thursday; if I don't, you'll have to wait a whole summer. Enjoy!

_-The Author_

* * *

As Eowyn insisted on talking in private, there was very little opportunity for the brother and sister to talk. A King in a country not his own is forever being visited, and mostly by various Lords who, conveniently, had a young daughter of age… 

How in the world had Eomer found the time to visit Eowyn before?

Finally, Eowyn, who was indeed of age but had no Lordly father to speak up, was granted a private audience, a mere three days before they were set to leave. Eowyn had not had a lot to do in that time, and so was already packed; but Eomer's things were still thrown haphazardly all around his room. Ana, who had accompanied her, stood with twitching hands, staring at the mess.

"I'm not surprised that you wish to talk to me," said Eomer. "I've heard some things about you."

"Really?" Eowyn was surprised.

"Oh, yes," said Eomer. "In the Houses of Healing."

Eowyn and Ana exchanged worried looks. A thousand thoughts flickered through her head at once; that Eomer knew about Faramir; that he seemed awfully calm about it; how long had he known about Faramir?

"You see," Eomer began, "I saw you in the Fields of the Pelennor, and I thought you dead. I came to pay my respects to Uncle and to you. But you weren't there.

Eowyn and Ana looked at each other again. They hadn't heard _this_ part of the tale yet.

"Prince Imrahil told me you were in the Houses of Healing, and we went to visit you. Before I could, we came upon Gandalf, and were soon joined by Aragorn. You, and Merry, and one of the Gondorian lords had all fallen under a sickness. The Shadow, they called it. Aragorn called for a plant they never used, 'athelas,' I think."

"That's used for headaches," said Ana, who seemed to have moved from Eowyn's side. At least, she was closer to a pile of clothing than she had been before. Eowyn blinked; she'd been impatient for the story to end.

"Sure," said Eomer. "Well, he called for some of this weed, and boiled it down and wiped the Gondorian lord with it…now that I recall, it was the Lord Faramir."

Eowyn became ten times more interested now.

"I think it was," said Eomer. "I met him officially sometime last week, after I met up with you," he said. "Amrothos introduced us." He said this name as if Eowyn would recognize it. Before Eowyn could think of a way to ask who Amrothos was, Eomer continued his unexpected little narrative. "The Lord Faramir awoke, and called Aragorn his King, which I think was a stroke of magic, there," he said. "Psychic or something, certainly. And the same thing happened with little Merry, although he awoke and called him friend…but when he called for you, Eowyn, you didn't respond."

Eowyn frowned. This was definitely an unfamiliar part of the tale.

"Aragorn wondered at this. After all, it had worked with Lord Faramir and our favorite Hobbit," Eomer said. "But they said such things about you, Eowyn, Gandalf, and Aragorn. I know of your infatuation with him, Eowyn."

Ana, her hand nearly touching the pile of clothing, stopped at looked surprised at Eowyn. Eowyn blushed and said, "It was a girlish thing, Eomer."

"Aragorn surmised that it wasn't enough," he said. "For you must be called by the voice of one you love to be awoken by the shadow. And Gandalf spoke of all that had happened in Meduseld," said Eomer, sharply, now getting to the point of this monologue. "The things that was said about Rohan! From the lips of our enemy Saruman and the traitor Wormtongue…" Here he repeated some of them, of drunkards and dogs, calling the Golden Hall a barn. Eowyn found it difficult to listen and look at him; she found staring at the clock much more comfortable. She could feel Ana's eyes staring at her. "And he spoke of you," said Eomer, "Of things I hadn't noticed – but I wish I had! Of cages, and loneliness, and despair…"

Eowyn now stared at the ground, rather than look at either Eomer or Ana.

"So I understand," said Eomer, "If you don't wish to return to Edoras. It is why I want you to marry Amrothos, so you can escape."

If Eowyn had not been refusing to look at anything except her feet, she might have looked up and spoken about Faramir; but this was too difficult, and she wasn't quite thinking, now.

"But it is my wish," said Eomer, "That you return with me, just this once, for the burial of our Uncle. And I think he would have wanted you there."

Eowyn's throat was burning, and her vision was blurry. She blinked, and was surprised that liquid came pouring from her eyes, and that she could see better. She was crying.

"Eomer," she said, "I will. I'm already packed."

"Oh," said Eomer. "Then I'm sorry."

There was a pause.

Ana picked up a shirt and began folding it. She sniffed it and shuddered.

Eowyn straightened her mind, remembered why she was here, and began. "Eomer, I wish to talk to you about this marrying thing." She looked at him. He was waiting for her to continue.

What in the world could she say? She didn't want to marry him. _For reasons other than just Faramir_, she thought. The word "thesis" suddenly popped into her head. She decided not to beat around the bush.

"I don't want to marry him," she said.

"Why not?" Eomer's tone was one of patience. Eowyn clenched her fists inside her skirt. He had been _expecting_ this.

Eowyn decided to get right to it. "He's an idiot," she said.

"I think he has a good sense of humor," said Eomer.

"I think he's an idiot," said Eowyn. "And he's rude. He actually insulted all of womanhood right in front of me. And _admitted_ it."

"If he understands what he's saying, then he's not an idiot."

"But if he has no understanding of the world, then who cares if he knows what he says?"

"He seems to understand everything everyone is saying."

Brother and sister glared at each other. Ana innocently picked up another shirt to fold. Eowyn combed over her mind for another reason not to marry him.

"It seems presumptuous," Eowyn said, "To ask for a woman's hand without ever having met her, offer money for it – money! What am I, a piece of fruit at the market?"

"So he's insulted your womanhood," Eomer waved a hand a bit, as if to say, _poo, who cares?_

Ana shook a shirt a little harder than she probably meant to. Eowyn gaped at him. She didn't hide her clenched fists behind her skirt. In danger of being beaten to death by his own shirt and his sister's fists, Eomer stood up and backed away and promised to think about it.


	9. And Guess What? More Talking!

This one is amazingly short.

-_The Author_

* * *

Faramir said, "Do you suppose he _really_ thought you two were going to murder him with his shirt?"

Eowyn laughed a little.

Faramir said, "Your Uncle will leave Gondor in full honors. His nephew and his niece will be there, and Merry his esquire will bear his arms. The Riddermark shall accompany them. All the sons of Elrond and a full company of Gondor shall ride with them. So, also, will the King of Gondor, and the Princes of Dol Amroth and Ithilien, and their households."

"Really!" said Eowyn, and she kissed the Prince of Ithilien.


	10. In Which Ana and Brenna Talk

More shortness!

_-The Author_

* * *

Outside the Lady Eowyn's door sat an odd sight: a very little maid, wearing a dress fit for a little girl, rather than a grown-up servant, and the other was tall and wide, with palms like dinner plates. Her face was sun-beaten and cheery. The maid, of course, was cheery also, but her mouth was currently set in a frown as she filed her nails.

"Do you think," said Ana, "That someone ought to have chaperoned them?"

"No," said Brenna, "I trust them."

Ana nodded.

"I wouldn't trust you with that pageboy, though," said Brenna.

"Why not?" Ana demanded. "He's my friend."

Brenna laughed a little and muttered something about "foolish girls." Ana laughed a little and smacked her with her unfiled hand. As this was her dominant hand, it might have hurt; but Brenna laughed.

"You won't be 'friends' much longer if that brother of hers has his way," said Brenna.

"We ought to scare him off," said Ana.

"How?"

Ana smiled mischievously.

"Why," she said, "With the stable boy, of course."


	11. In Which We Meet the Stable Boy

Wow, it's been forever. But hey, I have an excuse: I didn't have the internet, or at least an internet I could upload this from. So. And wow: this is a _really_ popular story. Thanks.

Once again: I don't own this, I just write it. Wait...

-_The Author_

* * *

The stable boy's name was Humphrey, but he hated being called that, so everyone called him "the stable boy," or "boy" for short. Ana's friend's sister, or rather, his girlfriend, called him "Hum," when she referred to him at all (the romance was a very secret thing, apparently). He had a very dark and clever face, and good hands, strong but gentle. We won't go into a whole lot of details, except to say that his girlfriend had written several poems on those magic hands. 

He worked in one of the most prestigious stables on the first level of Minas Tirith. There were several other stable boys, but he was _the_ Stable Boy of Gondor. Some went so far as to call him the Shit Whisperer; those who did usually wound up with very smelly black eyes.

When Ana and her friend Lorel visited him in his stable, he was taking a break from what he did best – shoveling up horse manure. He leaned on his shovel, covered in old horse manure and dripping with stanking sweat. For a moment Ana wondered what in the world Lorel's sister saw in him, until he turned around, and _then_ she saw the clever face and beautiful (if dirty) hands, and most of all, flashing green eyes. Ana and Lorel both covered a swoon.

"Hello," said Lorel.

"Hello indeed," the stable boy, sipping from a ladle of water.

"I'm Athel's sister," said Lorel.

"Who?" asked the stable boy, suppressing a grin. Lorel gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "But you'd best be the only one she told."

"Lorel told me," Ana said.

The stable boy took another sip of water, apparently deciding to ignore her.

"Well," said Ana, "Anyway, we know that this is the stable that Amrothos keeps his horse at."

"Who?"

"Amrothos."

"Who?"

"Amrothos," Ana spoke slowly, "Son of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth."

"Yes," said the stable boy. "Him. Not an unpleasant man, certainly a good tipper, but a bit of an idiot."

"He wants to marry my mistress," said Ana.

"Who's your mistress?"

"Eowyn, Lady of Rohan."

"Her," the stable boy smiled. "That Rohirric lady. Pretty _and_ good with horses, _and_ rich. Is there anything more perfect?"

Lorel coughed in her throat. "Maybe a girl who _writes poems about your hands every night_."

The stable boy smiled again. He had awfully nice, white teeth, although perhaps it was only in contrast with the manure. "Those are nice poems," he said.

"Anyway," said Ana, "Is there anything you can do?"

"About what?"

"Amrothos, wanting to marry Eowyn."

"What's wrong with that?"

"She's supposed to marry Faramir."

"Lord Faramir?" Suddenly the stable boy stood up straight. There was a sudden soldiery look about him. The girls nearly swooned again. "The Captain Faramir?"

"Yes."

"He has good taste." The stable boy leaned against the shovel again, a handsome, mischievous servant again. "He likes horses, too."

Ana and Lorel looked at each other. Neither of them were sure what to make of that statement. Did he have good taste for liking horses or the Lady Eowyn?

"So you'll help us?" Lorel asked.

"Sure," said the stable boy. "Scaring people away is my business. Besides, I have just the spooky colt." He indicated farther down the stable, and his hair waved a bit, and the girls swallowed a final swoon, thanked him, and left.


	12. In WhichSomething happens!

Aggh! This was written several days ago, but lack of internet access and the Document Manager not working no matter what I did prevented me from uploading this. I could have worked more on it, you know, have had at least two new chapters, but...I'm...lazy...maybe...and I don't own this! Enjoy!

-_The Author_

* * *

"Well," said Eomer.

"Well," said Eowyn.

"Not exactly a horseman, is he?" said Eomer.

"No," said Eowyn. "Not a horseman at all."

They were silent.

"That horse seemed fine when the Stable Boy was holding it," said Eomer.

"Yes," said Eowyn, looking suspiciously at her servants, who were giggling with the boy. He was rubbing his hands with glee.

Somewhere beyond the hill, the horse and the man were screaming. No one went to help. The servants waited for their masters to call; their masters waited for their Lords to call, and their Lords were simply amused.

Said the Stable Boy, "No, no, you see, I used acorns last time, this time it really is just the horse."

Eowyn didn't quite know what to make of this, although she had her suspicions. She looked at Eomer, squinting off towards the screams and the hill.

"I had visions," he said, "Of you and he taking rides up and down the sand. It was very pleasant, in my mind. Now, I don't know."

Eowyn smiled. Perhaps he would change his mind about the marriage?

"What are you smiling about?" Eomer asked.

"Oh," said Eowyn, "I was just wondering if they'll ever find his pants."


	13. Poor Guy

I was actually going to submit a chapter several days ago, except I made a mistake: I left it up on my computer. I returned home that night to find this note on my computer:

TODAY IS June 30, 2006

THERE ARE 8-MILLION STORIES IN THE NAKED CITY THIS IS ONLY ONE OF THEM. YOU CAN EITHER LISTEN OR RUN LIKE PIGEON HUNTING FOR A DROP OF FOOD ON THE STREET.

DEAR KELSEY,

I HAVE NO IDEA WHO PUT THOSE EXTRA WORDS ON YOUR STORY. I WILL HUNT FOR HIM; I MEAN THEM LIKE THEY LOOKED FOR DEEP THROAT. YOU KNOW THAT GUY IN WATERGATE WHO GAVE UP ALL THAT STUFF ABOUT NIXON.

I AM ON THE CASE 24-7. YES EVEN WHEN I AM ASLEEP.

YOUR LOVING FATHER, DAD

Rather than hunting through the entire chapter and trying to delete all of my dad's additions, and potentially missing something, I wrote an entirely new chapter. I think I like this one more, anyway. I hope you enjoy it, and remember, I have no more a right to mess with Lord of the Rings than my Dad does to mess with my stories. Even if he is funny about it.

-_The Author_

* * *

Amrothos leaned his head into the pillow of his cot. _This was the last night he would sleep in the ridiculous thing._ Tomorrow, o tomorrow, he would have a bath, a real hot bath, and fresh food, and a real bed with a real mattress…

He rolled over and scratched under his arm again. Would that skin never stop itching? It must be rubbed raw again. Drat that maid, that big one of Eowyn's. He should have known they were all in it together. But it had been the little ones that did the Stable Boy's bidding…salt in his milk and the worms in his meals, acorns under his saddle, inflated bags finding their way on his seat _in front of the Lady Eowyn, et al_. He was _tired_. He needed his _sleep_.

"Olmin!"

"Ana!"

It was that tiny maid, and Olmin, he had to think a little bit, that was one of Faramir's pages.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, walking. Yourself?"

"Just walking."

If they were going to talk so loud right outside his tent, couldn't they say something interesting? He rolled over again and scratched his burning chest. _Itching powder instead of deodorant_. When Eowyn was his wife, he would replace all her servants with women he trusted.

"Anywhere specific?" Olmin asked.

"Just in circles."

"Oh," said Olmin. "Circles."

"Yes," said Ana. "Circles. Just a pointless circle. A round object, having no beginning and no end. It never changes. You just go around and around. And no circumference, either, did you know that? No one has ever figured out the meaning of _pi_. And they need it, somehow, to solve the circumference of a circle. Right now _pi_ is just an endless stream of numbers, and kind of pointless. It repeats after a while, never ending. It's very repetitive."

"Some of us are trying to sleep," Amrothos called.

There was a pause.

"Please go on," said Olmin. "I believe earlier you were going to explain something about proportions?"

"Yes," said Ana. "You see, I wanted to ask you, as it seems like something you would know, how much wood could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood?"

"700 grams," said Olmin.

"Please leave," Amrothos moaned.

"If you want a better scenario, Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, how many peppers did Peter Piper pick?"

"Excellent question," said Ana. "I have no idea. Did you know that she sells sea shells by the sea shore?"

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Amrothos cried. "You didn't even…"

"I didn't know that," Olmin said. "Did you hear that Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall?"

"No!" Ana gasped.

"For the love of the King, SHUT UP!"

There was a pause. Then someone knocked on his tent pole. "What?" Amrothos grunted.

"Package for you, sir." It was Ana. He decided not to move. He wasn't going to be tricked again. "It's from Lady Eowyn."

How could he ignore that? He obediently rose, threw on a dressing gown, and opened his curtain. Ana stood there, looking tiny and innocent. Olmin was nowhere to be seen. Probably hiding in a shadow nearby, or continuing one of his _circles_.

Ana dipped into a curtsey, and held out a can.

"What is this?" Amrothos asked, trying to discreetly scratch his left shoulder. He took the can with his free left hand, and looked it over. It appeared to have a screw-top. He removed his hand from his shoulder and twisted. The top came off easily. And then something hit him in the nose.

"Ow!"

Another prank! It was nothing but a spring-loaded trap. Ana fell over in giggles. Nearby, more giggles were heard. Amrothos rubbed his nose and snarled at her until she left. He fell back onto his cot, and thought that tomorrow night would never come.


	14. In Which The Plot Finally Turns

Penultimate chapter!

Sorry I took so long with this chapter. I've been taking a creative writing course in another town, which, between that and work, really saps my days. I think it's a good excuse, anyway.

Enjoy!

-_The Author_

* * *

Eomer arrived at the breakfast table first. Theories could, presumably, circulate over this: he was used to the early rising; he was used to camping for several days and then sleeping in relative luxury; he was just weird like that. Whatever the reason, it is unimportant. He liked arriving first, and that was that. His manservant stood off in the corner and drifted off to start thinking about girls.

Eowyn arrived second. If Eomer hadn't been there, she would have been first. That had been so even during Theoden's best days. She was followed by a train of servants, who had their own train to follow. _Her_ train, Ana, Brenna, and some Rohirric girl with no brains to speak of, gossiped, giggled, and yawned, and looked generally unmilitary. _They_ were followed by Lorel, Loreth, the Stable Boy, and the Rohirric girl's little sister. The Stable boy stood off in the corner and looked mischievous, if you looked at him at all.

They were followed swiftly by Faramir, Beregond, and Olmin. Faramir bowed to Eomer and Eowyn, smiled pleasantly, and sat down to read. Beregond sat and wondered about breakfast. Olmin joined Eowyn's train's train. Ana was looking very pretty that morning, after all.

Prince Imrahil, his two elder sons, and Princess Lothiriel arrived next, with their trains. Prince Imrahil's men stood around, trying to look military and not like they were thinking about girls. Princess Lothiriel's girls joined Eowyn's train's train.

Lord Aragorn arrived, looked surprised that everyone was sitting at the table, and excused himself, as he had already eaten some hours before. He disappeared before anyone could wonder where his train had gone.

Now they were all waiting for Amrothos and his train.

Someone coughed.

The Stable Boy stood up and took a walk around the room.

No one noticed.

Amrothos stumbled in twenty minutes late. His face had an odd sheen to it, and his skin was pale. He stopped and eyed Eowyn's train's train suspiciously, and then sat down.

"_Phht_," went his chair. Amrothos froze. There were some giggles in the room.

"You could at least say 'excuse me,'" one of his brothers muttered.

"It wasn't me," said Amrothos. He settled in his seat.

"_Phht_," went his chair again. There were some more giggles, and even some boyish chuckles, this time. No one in his family knew quite what to say. Amrothos wiggled and fidgeted in his chair – "_Phht, phut, phuu, phht_" and suddenly snatched a sack out from under his chair. He squeezed it in his hand.

"_Phhheeeuuuuwwww…_" went the sack.

He looked right at Eowyn's train's train.

"Alright, that's it," he said. "I can't take this anymore! Those nasty creatures are ruining my life!"

"Excuse me?" said Eowyn.

"You heard me," Amrothos cried. "Those little bastards are nothing but trouble."

There was an audible gasp. One of Lothiriel's maids fainted.

"Your little _tricksters_ have been after me from the start!" Amrothos cried. "Bad horse – itching powder – and now you've shorted my sheets! And a _whoopee cushion!_" He threw the offending sack on the table, knocking over a goblet. Fortunately, it was empty.

Eowyn's train's train tried to look very innocent.

"Those are very fierce accusations," said Eowyn.

"It's like they don't want us to get married!" Amrothos cried.

Eomer started. "Maybe he is on to something," he said. "They are a little rustic and silly. You ought to get handmaidens more fitting to your rank."

Ana grabbed Olmin's ready hand. Brenna covered her mouth. The Rohirric maid wondered if dust bunnies really had long ears. The Stable Boy jumped. He hadn't meant to get them fired! He'd miscalculated somehow. He was supposed to break, to snap at them suddenly, and look like he'd lost it, conveniently in front of Eomer. Not this!

All eyes fell on Eowyn, except for Faramir, who was fascinated with his book.

Eowyn looked from Eomer to Amrothos and back again. "Maybe I like them silly," she said.

Everyone except Faramir looked at Amrothos.

"It's them or me," said Amrothos.

Now they looked at Eowyn.

"I accept your terms," said Eowyn. "I'll take _them_."

They all looked at Armothos now, but it was Eomer who spoke next.

"Eowyn!" He sputtered a moment, completely out of character, and then said, "You're still in love with Aragorn, aren't you. I won't keep you out of the marriage bed for long!"

"Oh really, Eomer! I thought you had more respect for me than that!" Eowyn laughed. "Eomer, it's not the cold city walls of Minas Tirith that I long for, but the lush gardens of Ithilien!"

_Now_ everyone looked at Faramir, who suddenly lifted up his black-haired head and met the astonished gaze of everyone. He smiled and waved.

Lothiriel leapt up from her seat. "I KNEW IT!" she cried. "I knew it, I knew it! From that day we had tea – I knew it! You were acting so strange, I just _knew_ you were in love with Faramir, I knew it! Oh, what a lovely cousin-in-law you'll make, I mean it, I really do! The Steward and the Lady of Rohan! Could it be any more perfect!" She ran to kiss Eowyn's cheek, and then Faramir's.

Eomer stared at her as if she were insane. Eowyn blushed madly. Faramir tried not to laugh. Prince Imrahil weighed his options and decided that really, it was in everyone's best interest that she marry his nephew rather than his idiot of a third son. It had never made sense to begin with, anyway. It was like something out of a really ill-planned short fiction story.


	15. In Which the Story Ends

Last chapter. Sigh. Well, it's been a fun ride. I reread this story, and discovered a major mistake: I named Lorel's sister Areth or something like that, but I've been calling her Loreth ever since. Eh. It's not important.

I wrote the beginning of this chapter entirely from my loose memory of _Return of the King_ Book VI, so don't expect the dialogue to be exact or anything. (btw, Lord of the Rings isn't mine.)

Thank you for reading the story!

_-The Author_

* * *

Eomer said, "Aragorn King has asked for a boon from my household, as if housing and feeding he and his court weren't enough."

Everyone laughed.

He continued. "His Steward, Faramir of Ithilien, has asked for my sister's hand in marriage, which I grant."

Everyone cheered. Faramir stepped forward. Eomer took his hand and Eowyn's, and linked their hands together, to signify that they were now engaged. It was official. Only they could stop it now.

Amrothos scratched his head and wondered how Faramir could be a Steward if there was already a king.

Aragorn said, "No niggard are you, Eomer, to give to Gondor the finest thing in your kingdom!"

Everyone laughed and agreed that Eowyn was, indeed, very pretty. By the way, where had the Eowyn and Faramir gone? They looked around the hall, but Faramir and Eowyn were nowhere to be seen. Ana giggled and none of Eowyn's servants helped in the search.

The musicians started up their instruments anyway, and all began dancing. Olmin worked up his courage and asked Ana to dance, which she of course accepted, glaring at Brenna's knowing look. A manservant asked Brenna to dance soon after that. The Stable Boy emerged from the Stables, after having undergone a very intense bath, and was the admiration of all of the servant girls. He danced only with Loreth, though, and they went _wild_ on that dance floor.

Eomer decided it wouldn't be so bad to dance with Prince Imrahil's crazy daughter. She seemed rather calm tonight, and all her giggles made her blush in a very becoming way.

Amrothos was found outside later, passed out with a bottle of ale he'd been nursing. He seemed very happy about it, though.

Eowyn and Faramir returned in the middle of the dancing. Their faces and necks were red, and Faramir's hair was messed, rather sexily.


End file.
